Who Wants to Live Forever?
by Lilliane
Summary: John's thoughts when Olivia is shot.


Title: Who Wants to Live Forever?

Rating: PG for thematic elements

Pairing: John/Olivia

Summary: John's secret thoughts when Olivia is killed.

Disclaimer: Dick Wolf owns all. (except the idea) I know that _Who Wants to Live Forever?_ has been performed by Sarah Brightman, but I guess Queen originally performed it, so go them!!!

_"There's no chance for us_

_It's all decided for us_

_This world has only one sweet moment_

_Set aside for us…"_

-Who Wants to Live Forever? Sarah Brightman

I know I will never smile again. The sun shines garishly through the chapel windows, and my frown turns deeper as I think of the irony of it while the priest goes off again about souls and heaven and a bunch of other useless crap. I glare at him. He hardly blinks an eye.

How many times has he done this? How many times has he given eulogies for families, friends…more than friends (I shudder) about their dead beloved without a single sign of emotion? Does he think that, if he does this, he'll set an example for the rest of us so that we won't cry for hours while speaking for the aforementioned dead so that he in turn can go home early? He's obviously never lost a person close enough to him in his life.

I hate this. I'd rather be the one in the coffin than sitting on this hard bench with the white sun shining in my eyes, my dark suit stifling me, holding me down while every second I want to get up and run away somewhere, anywhere. To your apartment, to mine. And, if I was in the coffin…I'd be closer to you.

I never was close to you, never could be. Cragen wouldn't let me, Fin wouldn't let me, Elliot wouldn't let me…and you wouldn't let me. You never were a person to let people get close to you, and I know how that is too. I certainly don't blame you. With the life you had, I marvel that you could even trust all of us at the unit to be your friends without running the risk of breaking your heart. I close my eyes and shake my head. What a life you lead. A raped mother, no father, loner at school, hardened police officer, dead mother…how you dealt with it all I'll never know. They used to say that women are weaker than men. I know for a fact that it is the opposite.

But you were always so sad inside. Always so lonely. Even in your brightest moments, melancholy still lurked in one shadowy corner in your eyes. You were broken, like me, like all of us, yet you kept fighting. Even in…even in your death your body struggled with itself, doing everything it could to keep you alive. Looks like that bullet was too great an adversary.

I find myself hating everything viciously again. I never was so passionate about my feelings until I got to know you. I guess you rubbed off on me. Uh-oh, you would say if you were here, that's not a good a thing, you would laugh. I wish you _were_ here. I wish I could open my eyes, look up a little, and see you kneeling in front of me with your brown eyes (normally hard) soften like only a woman's could, and say "What's wrong, John?", your voice echoing with a reverberating alto timbre. I wish I could hold you as tightly as I could and cry into your hair, tell you about the horrible dream I had where I was at work on a typical day, then got a call saying you had been shot while at stakeout and didn't survive, and that I never got to tell you even once that I love you. I can feel your silky hair against my cheek, smell your perfume of rich, wild roses…

I open my eyes. All I see is another empty hardwood bench.

The priest has stopped talking and has invited us to speak about you. Everyone looks at me. Their eyes are boring into me, and my knees start to feel weak. Finally feeling that I can follow the edgy impulse I've had all morning, I stand up and walk stiffly out the door.

_"Now touch my tears with your lips_

_Touch my world with your fingertips_

_And we can have forever_

_And we can love forever…"_

-Who Wants to Live Forever? Sarah Brightman

I'm so sorry, I say at your grave. I wasn't strong enough to stay for the things those other people would say. Why? Because whatever they felt for you could never compare to my feelings, my pain. I wanted to say something about you, but I didn't know what to say or how to say it. I wanted to say everything and nothing. Then they were looking at me with those eyes, as if it was all my fault…I'm sorry.

In truth, I think it _was_ my fault. At least, I could've done something to protect you better. I never said anything, but I knew I should've gone with you to that stakeout. I should've been there, just to watch your back, and I think you and Elliot could've used another pair of eyes. Instead, I gave the lame excuse that, if I didn't finish my paperwork, I would've been in contempt of court. Sounds so petty now, especially since, even if I was in jail for a while, I still would've been able to come back and see you. I know, I know, it's not your fault, you did your duty, blah blah blah. What a selfish thing, duty, if it saves yourself but not the person you love.

Yes, I said love. I love you, Olivia. You brought a fire back into this old man's cold soul. You made me appreciate life again, even while there are so many evil people in this world. You helped me to see past the bad things in some people, you taught me how wrong it was to scorn the things in life we all take for granted. And what did I have to offer you? An iron-hard wit and speculations on conspiracies you didn't give a crap about.

Nevertheless, (and no, there is no other way to say this) I was like a moth drawn to a flame; wanted so badly to be consumed, yet afraid of being spurned away. In simpler terms, you remember the old phrase _Carpe Diem_? I obviously never lived by that motto. However, I got as close to you as I dared; first to acknowledge your presence in the office, first to find things to help you in tough cases, and so on. I tried to not get too close for fear of scaring you off and that Cragen might suspect something and move one of us away. But, as long as I was that close to you, to be able to see your face every day, that was enough for me.

I pull your badge out of my pocket. Tears gather against my will as I remember the way Dr. Warner said that you had wanted me to have this. I realize now that I was the only one to receive something from you as you died. Maybe you loved me too.

I remember all the times you came so close to death. That serial killer that was holding a gun to your head when we came to arrest him, that fence you jumped that had sharp pikes on the other side that almost impaled you, even that time, so long ago, when you were exposed to HIV while dragging that girl out of the bath, covered in her own infected blood. All those times, those horrible times when I thought I would lose you for sure, would've been honorable ways to go. Instead, you get shot while on stakeout, waiting to arrest a brainless kid for a misdemeanor so you could get him to talk about his more experienced partner in crime. I close my eyes and shake my head again. This is definitely not how you wanted it. This whole day is filled with irony.

I doubt that that case will be solved soon; at least, not by me, Fin, or Elliot.

Elliot. I stop my monologue as my subconscious begins to curse him. Out of all the things I hate most today, he's the one I hate the most. I know, he's not particularly to blame for you getting shot (although he should've paid better attention) but I think some part of me disliked him even before you died. He was always around you, knew you inside out and sideways, and always talked about you. I didn't dislike him for himself as much as I disliked the look in his eyes when he talked about you. I've seen that look, know it, and I knew that he was attracted to you. Doesn't matter to him that he's married and has four kids, as long as he has his work to hide behind so he can – I take a deep breath to calm myself. I'm sorry again; I can't help feeling like I'm competing against him and he's winning. I've caught the both of you staring at each other while hunched over paperwork, and I wonder what goes through your minds as I writhe inside. What do you think of him, and what does he think of you? If you were alive right now and had to choose between me and him, would you choose Elliot?

My voice falters. I feel that I am missing something. There's something I want to tell you, but I don't even know what it is. I want to tell you all that is in my heart, how much I wanted to know you, how much I wish I could've done something to change this, how much I love you, how much I already miss you. How much I wish I had had more time with you, how much I wish I could've held you, just once, before this. I-I can't imagine…how can life ever…go on without you? I bend my head down and close my eyes as hot tears, which quickly cool in the frosty air, slip out against my will.

I take a deep, ragged breath a few seconds later, just like you taught me. My tired eyes open again and I drop my bouqet of flowers on top of the small pile recently accumulated. Pink roses tipped with gold, your favorite. When you told me this, I remember the dreamy light that came into your dark eyes as you told me how much they reminded you of a glorious midsummer sunset and a quiet garden by a cottage all at once. It makes me so sad now to see how few flowers there are; you were such a wonderful person, but so few friends. Of course, being a police officer tends to get you to make more friends than enemies, but, again, I understand. These days, it's easier to make enemies; you don't care if they try to turn and stab you in the back. I hesitate a moment, then I add a rich red rose on top, for passion. Whether for life or love for you, I do not know, but for me, it is my silent way of saying, once again, that I love you. I always have, and I know I always will.

"John?"

I gasp and turn. Once again, Fin has taken me off guard. I flush slightly, expecting him to laugh at me or make some witty quip, but he is silent for a moment, staring past me at your headstone and the roses I left. I see his eyes for an instant and I know that he misses you terribly as well. Behind him stands Casey, Dr. Warner, Dr. Huang, the Captain, and…Elliot. My flush intensifies and I expect to see something, some sneer or sign of triumph that will let me know that you chose him and not me. He looks at your grave with the same despair, the same desolation, and I look in his eyes for a moment. I breathe freely then, for his sadness is not from the loss of a lover, _but from the loss of a friend_.

"You coming?"

We all look at each other, and in that moment, we all connect. Our hearts all mourn for you, and there is no dissention, no quarreling or loudmouth comments. Somehow, I feel warmed slightly by a sense of true companionship and unity, and my restless spirit lets go. We'll all be there for each other, and maybe they won't laugh at me as I've so often imagined when I finally tell them that I love you…

"Yeah," I force out as I look at your headstone again. _I promise I will return…_

We all turn our backs and walk together as the world echoes with the sounds of footsteps crunching through the deep midwinter snow.

_"Forever is our today_

_Who wants to live forever?_

_Who wants to live forever?_

_Who waits forever anyway?"_

A/N: What'd you all think? Like, no like? No flames or long persuasive essays about how it's obvious that Elliot and Olivia are meant for each other, because 1) that pairing is WAAYYYY overrated, and 2) I have a problem with Elliot and his sometimes too cheap macho-ness. Besides, you gotta love the Belz. :D Review!!!!!!


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